


just like heaven (just like a dream)

by doctorkaitlyn



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Childbirth, Established Relationship, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 01:29:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8382646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkaitlyn/pseuds/doctorkaitlyn
Summary: Just when Glenn thinks that it's time to let sleep win, even if just for a few minutes, a cry of a different kind breaks through the silence. This one is higher, sharper, the first scream of a new life, and his head jolts up, heart momentarily skipping in his chest. Daryl's hand tightens around his.
"That was-"
"Yeah," Glenn says. "It was."





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lizzicleromance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizzicleromance/gifts), [MrowSaystheCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrowSaystheCat/gifts).



> I literally wrote this out of spite, because fuck the season 7 opener. title from the song [Just Like Heaven](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Dhn_iIQXDE) by The Cure.
> 
> can be read as either a standalone or as a sequel to [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6034024) previously posted Daryl/Glenn/Maggie fic. 
> 
> as always, this is a gift for Lizzy, who is marvelous. <3

Glenn is fairly certain that if Daryl doesn't stop pacing soon, he's going to wear a hole straight through the carpet.

Not that Glenn blames him; he's long since lost track of how many hours they've been lingering in the hallway. Afternoon long faded into evening, and then into night, and now washed out rays of morning light are starting to filter through the windows lining the hallway. He'd tried reading for a few hours, squinted his eyes in flickering candlelight as Daryl fidgeted and paced and whittled, but more often than not, the words just swam in front of his eyes. He'd given up eventually, tossed the book to the floor with its spine reaching for the ceiling, and gone back to simply staring at the floor between his feet. 

That was quite some time ago, before dawn. Now, his skull feels like it's full of lead; his eyes keep slipping shut and his head keeps jerking and bobbing, chin falling down to his collarbone and then yanking back up. The temptation of sleep grows more and more alluring with each passing moment, but he refuses to succumb. 

Not until he knows that their child is okay. 

"This ain't right," Daryl mutters for the dozenth time, pushing his too-long bangs away from his forehead. "We should be in there with her." 

"I know," Glenn sighs, glancing down the hallway at the closed door, just in time for one of Maggie's cries to reach his ears. There's nothing he wants more than to be in there with her, holding her hand and helping in any way possible, but Hilltop's makeshift infirmary simply isn't big enough. Between Denise and Dr. Carson and the people they'd recruited as nurses, there simply wasn't space enough for Glenn and Daryl both. 

"Damn it," Daryl growls as another one of Maggie's cries leaks out. Abruptly, he stops pacing and collapses into the chair next to Glenn, dropping down hard enough to make it creak alarmingly loud. His left leg picks up where he left off, beating a slightly muffled tattoo against the carpet. His scarred hands are clasped between his knees, and Glenn is surprised that his knuckles aren't pressing white against his skin. 

"It's gotta be over soon," Glenn says, dropping his head against the back of the chair. "It has to be, right?" 

"Don't know anymore than you do." They'd both read as many pregnancy books as they could scrounge up, asked Carol and Michonne for advice, but Glenn still feels wholly unprepared, like he's running blind. He rubs at his sore eyes with his fingers, wills them to stay open a little longer, just a few more hours. 

"I just hope everything is okay," he murmurs, sitting back up and dropping one hand to Daryl's knee. It's the first point of real physical contact they've shared in hours and Daryl immediately moves into it, releases his hands and drops one heavily onto Glenn's. After a moment of twisting and wriggling, Glenn manages to properly slot their fingers together. Daryl squeezes hard, and Glenn can feel the anxiety twisting through his partner's body, like a restrained creature trying to escape its bounds. 

"Maggie's strong," Daryl says and Glenn nods. It's possibly the understatement of the century. Calling Maggie strong is like calling a sculpture beautiful; it's truthful, but only just skims the surface. 

"Yeah. She's got this." 

More time flits by. Outside the walls of the mansion, Hilltop grows louder, more lively. Cows low, wood splits, people call back and forth to each other. Carl and Enid stop by for a few minutes but otherwise, the hall remains empty. Daryl's hand remains locked in his and Glenn's head keeps growing heavier and heavier, rolling on his neck like a stone tumbling over a cliff. 

Finally, just when he thinks that it's time to let sleep win, even if just for a few minutes, a cry of a different kind breaks through the silence. This one is higher, sharper, the first scream of a new life, and Glenn's head jolts up, heart momentarily skipping in his chest. Daryl's hand tightens around his. 

"That was-" 

"Yeah," Glenn says. "It was." They're far from being out of the woods, and he resists jumping to his feet just yet, but the knowledge that their son has finally made it into the world makes him sigh with relief and drop his forehead to Daryl's shoulder. Daryl palms the back of his head, runs his thick fingers through Glenn's hair, huffs out a sound between a pleased sigh and a laugh. 

"Knew she could do it," he mumbles into Glenn's hair, and Glenn nods, wipes at his eyes. 

Time trickles to a stop. The baby cries out a few times, each time louder than the last. Daryl returns to pacing and Glenn takes over the role of leg jittering, stares down at the worn carpet between his feet and waits. 

Finally, the door at the end of the hallway creaks open, and he jumps to his feet, nearly stumbling into Daryl, legs full of pins and needles. Michonne steps out into the hallway, dreadlocks pulled back with a rubber band, medical mask over her face, hands swathed in latex gloves. When she pulls off the mask, she's beaming at them. 

"They alright?" Daryl asks. Michonne nods as she tugs off her gloves. 

"They're both doing great," she replies. "Doctor says you can see them, once you go wash up." 

There's a bathroom at the opposite end of the hallway and Glenn washes his hands until they're sore and red, thanking God the entire time for the solar panels and generator that allow them to run the water. Daryl takes his sweet time, scrubs underneath every single fingernail until his hands are cleaner than Glenn has ever seen them. Only once he's finished do they step back out into the hallway. Michonne is gone, but Dr. Carson is just in front of the doorway, still dressed in dirty scrubs, looking exhausted. 

"You can head on in," he says. "I'll come back in a few hours to make sure everything's okay." 

"Get some rest," Glenn replies. "I think you've deserved it." Carson smiles slightly and as he steps aside, Glenn and Daryl both file into the room. 

The room is aglow with sunlight and a cool breeze seems to curl around every inch of air. Some of the pieces of medical equipment are beeping quietly and the room is filled with the remnants of the chaos that only recently ended; there's a cardboard box tucked in the corner, filled with dirty sheets and scrubs, and the scent of blood is faint but unmistakable. Denise is sitting in a chair beside the hospital bed, flipping through a magazine, pieces of hair escaping from her ponytail. When she glances up, she looks only slightly less weary than the doctor. 

"I'll leave you guys alone," she says. "Come get me when you're done." 

"Will do," Glenn says. She pulls the door shut and finally, things are as they should be. 

"Hey," Maggie rasps. Her short hair is plastered to her forehead and her skin is flushed red. She's beaming bright as the sun breaking through a cloud on a rainy day, and Glenn knows, without thinking, that it's the most beautiful sight he's ever seen. "'Bout time you got in here." 

"Had to wash up," Daryl replies, voice hushed. He looks the very definition of thunderstruck; his mouth is slightly ajar and his eyes are glinting with concealed joy. Glenn is sure he looks the same; even after hearing the baby's cries, it's hard to believe that, after everything they've gone through, their son has arrived, perfectly healthy. 

"Is he sleeping?" Glenn asks, propelling himself to the side of the bed. Daryl joins him, so that they're pressed together from shoulder to hip. 

"Nah," Maggie says, shaking her head. "He's just looking around. See?" She tilts up the bundle in her arms and gently pulls some of the blanket away from the baby's face. His dark brown eyes immediately fixate on Glenn and Glenn feels unmistakable pricks of warmth behind his own eyes. 

Frankly, he's amazed he's been able to hold off this long. 

"Hey," he says, reaching out and gently resting his palm on the baby's head. He has a thin, silken layer of black hair covering his skull, chubby cheeks and a tiny snub of a nose. When Daryl leans forward and brushes one finger down the baby's cheek, he burbles and wriggles, until one tiny arm comes loose of the blankets. 

"I think he likes you both already," Maggie laughs quietly, gently tucking the baby's arm back. Daryl laughs as well but the sound comes out choked, stuck in his throat. The pinpricks behind Glenn's eyes grow stronger, and tears burn down his cheeks. 

"What are we going to do about a name?" he asks, wiping at his face with his free hand. He's been thinking of possibilities for ages, but he hasn't dared say any of them out loud, too afraid of jinxing things. He's not sure if Maggie and Daryl had the same reasoning, but neither of them have brought up the topic. 

"I don't know," Maggie says softly, green eyes fixed on her son's face.

"Hershel." Glenn takes his eyes away from the baby and looks over at Daryl. His bangs are hiding his eyes, but he's gnawing on his bottom lip with his teeth, oozing nerves. Maggie glances from Daryl back to the baby and gently runs her thumb along the baby's cheek. Her eyes glimmer wet, tears threatening to spill over, and she nods. 

"Yeah," she murmurs. "We can name him after Daddy." The baby burbles again and Maggie laughs, the sound almost indistinguishable from a sob. She leans forward and brushes her lips against Glenn's hand before she leans forward, just far enough to tug Daryl down so that she can kiss his cheek. Daryl turns red and Glenn slings his arm around Daryl's waist, pulling him as close as possible. 

"It's a perfect name," Glenn says, swallowing around the lump in his throat. Daryl coughs once, brushes at a spiderweb thin piece of hair brushing against the baby's forehead. 

"I haven't finished the cradle yet," Daryl mumbles, his free hand resting heavy on Glenn's back.

"Don't worry about that right now," Maggie says. "Just stay. Both of you. Just for a little bit. Stay."

It's the easiest _yes_ Glenn has ever said.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, I can be found on [tumblr.](http://banshee-cheekbones.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
